


Safety and Peace

by NevaRYadL



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, M/M, Strap-Ons, Trans Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad, Trans Male Character, Trans Male Top, Trans character topping, mentioned Enemies to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-11-23 22:58:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20897519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NevaRYadL/pseuds/NevaRYadL
Summary: Altaïr returns from a contract. Malik missed him.





	Safety and Peace

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: Altaïr/Malik, mlm smut, handjobs, anal fingering, anal sex, strap on usage, trans male top
> 
> Will I ever just stop dropping random ass trans dude topping pwp on the ac fandom? The world may never know

“Good evening, Malik.”

“Good evening, Altaïr.”

It was dark out already and Malik had already retired for the eve. Altaïr stood in his room. 

Where once he stood with insufferable pride, shoulders back, chest puffed out, chin out and eyes stead fast and piercing. The stride and pose of a puffed up bird of pride, eager to show off its brightly colored feathers. But now… he stood with modest and quiet self pride. Shoulders square but steady, pose ready and carrying an air of peace but also quiet self confidence. A man that knew of his skills but also knew of his faults. A well rounded and centered man. A man, not a bird puffing up its venomously colored feathers.

“All went well?” Malik said as he took the pot of tea off the fire. He set it aside and gathered two cups to fill. He silently offered one to Altaïr, who quietly thanked him and took a sip, mouth softening.

“Yes. Contract fulfilled. I was able to avoid detection but still made sure that no one could follow me afterwards. I have already reported in and there is a report waiting on your desk for the morning,” Altaïr said before finishing his glass. Malik sipped his, only finishing about half way through before setting it aside.

“Do you require a place to stay the night?”

“Only if you will offer it. You wished to hear the results of the contract and I knew you would be awake.”

“I do offer. I would be unkind to make you walk back in the dark,” Malik hummed.

Altaïr had already had the good thought to remove his boots and had left them by Malik’s shoes. He undid his gear and set it aside, undoing the gear reverently and thoughtfully. Malik had seen the man carelessly toss aside gear before, not caring that someone else had made it, that the novices would care for it as part of their duties. But not now. Now he carefully set his gear aside piece by piece, hands pausing to run over something that he would note to take care of later. Care… Malik was still getting used to seeing it in the man.

Malik also undressed. Thankfully his clothing had been modified to allow himself to dress and undress with one arm. Thankfully, Altaïr just sat to the side and said nothing nor watched. Malik still had… not exactly sore but a rather sensitive spot about his abilities and what he could or could not do with one arm. Perhaps one day, he could ask Altaïr to help him, but for now, his pride needed him to do even the smallest things on his own.

“I will sleep by the fire,” Altaïr said quietly.

With the dark outside and only the low fire illuminating Malik’s home, harsh shadows and warm light caught the side of Altaïr’s face. The sharp angles, the trademark scar on his mouth, his eyes. So different from before, where once they were harsh, and cocky and mean and disgustingly prideful now… now they were just eyes. Soft with exhaustion.

“We’re grown men, we can share a bed.”

“Okay.”

Malik did not share a bed with much anyone nowadays. After the removal of his arm, he had both body and anger issues. He did not want anyone to look at his scarred body and see those terrible, awful, horrible pity filled eyes. And he was just so… angry at everyone and everything and could not think about anything soft or gentle. But he had had time to heal, the anger soothed over, calmed and extinguished like the burning flame that it was. Nowadays it was just Altaïr that he shared a bed with.

They laid down, back to back. Altaïr was warm against his back, despite having probably walked in the evening and then night air for a length of time. Malik could feel the lean muscles shift as the man adjusted to get comfortable, then to shift away and give Malik space. And then get comfortable again when Malik chased the touch and pressed their backs together again. 

And for a moment… there was only the sound of their breathing and the quiet murmurs of the city that was more or less sleeping at this time of night. They could hear a few voices outside, people tiredly shuffling home after long shifts elsewhere, a few guards quietly walking around in heavy armor, a few people of the night talking quietly at length and only broken by merry bouts of laughter. Quiet though, for the most part.

“... Are you well?” Malik asked quietly, voice barely bothering the comfortably heavy quiet air.

“Tired but yes.”

“Good.”

There was silence for a moment.

“Did you miss me?”

“Yes.”

“... I am glad.”

Malik flipped around, facing Altaïr’s back. Nothing but lean muscles and scars from a youth of learning the trade of hunting in the shadows. Carefully, Malik lifted his hand to trace the underside of Altaïr’s left shoulder blade. Along a small scar that ran parallel along his spine. Across a few sun induced freckles along his shoulders and upper back. All these spots that Malik knew by heart at this point.

Altaïr flipped around as well, facing him. In the low light, Malik could not make out much. The light just lit up the rises of Altaïr’s face. But Malik knew the man’s face by eye and by touch and by kiss well enough that he knew what he could not see. And knew the man well enough to let his eyes drift shut when warm hands cupped his face. Knew enough to know the warmth that pressed against his mouth next. Knew those firm and slightly chapped lips anywhere.

They kissed for a moment. Nothing hurried, nothing hot and desperate or passionate. Not wet or sloppy. Just presses of their lips against one another. Sweet and soft. Quiet and relaxed. Just what they wanted. Just what they needed. Warmth and contact.

When they pulled apart to draw in breath, Malik was loath to open his eyes. He was warm, he felt safe, and the day had been long. Altaïr drew his head forward, tucked underneath his chin, letting him press his face into the warmth of Altaïr’s throat and chest. His arms slipped around Malik’s body, hugging him close, hands drifting along his back in slow gentle circling touches, drags of calloused fingertips.

“I missed you too,” Altaïr said quietly.

“You were gone a week.”

“Travel was a bother. Exhausting.”

Altaïr’s thumb rubbed against the base of his spine and warmth suddenly blossomed underneath his belly. He pressed himself against the other man’s body. The sudden warmth only mildly surprised him. Not like it had some time ago. Now he was just surprised that Altaïr could stir it so quickly inside of him, and after a few seconds of surprise, he took it in stride.

“Too exhausted for me tonight?”

There was a sharp intake of breath against his hair, followed by a kiss. And then that warm body was moving away, himself shuffling to the middle of the bed and laying on his back. More than a little eagerly, he reached down and shoved at his sleeping pants, pushing them down to his knees before wriggling out of them the rest of the way and then kicking them off the bed. He watched Altaïr knowingly look in the place that they had the things that they needed stored away.

Breathing a little heated and feeling his breath quicken as his skin flushed as he watched Altaïr pulled out what they needed, pulling one on and then rejoin him on the bed. Carefully, Altaïr pulled Malik’s thighs over his own, running his hands over the lean muscle and warm skin, dragging from his knee to his belly that quivered underneath the touch of calloused fingertips. Gentle and soft and careful in the slow drags of skin against skin.

Sweetly, Altaïr spread his thighs a bit more, himself tilting his hips up. Uncorking the bottle that he had gotten earlier, Altaïr dripped some of the contents onto two fingers, getting them slick with oil. And then those fingers were on him, gently rubbing against him. Relaxing him at first, gently coaxing him into ease. Gentle and slow… that was how Altaïr was now and--

“Are you well?”

“Yes… it has been a long day for me as well,” Malik breathed, reaching up to cup Altaïr’s cheek. When the man turned to kiss his palm, he felt his chest tighten in joy, letting his hand fall away and tilting his hips again to coax Altaïr into continuing.

Carefully, Altaïr rubbed against him, taking his time relaxing him. When he was relaxed enough, a single finger started pushing, putting the barest pressure against his body, stroking his arousal, teasing him just slightly. And then that finger was gently pushing in, going slowly, gently working in and out. He breathed slowly, enjoying the feeling, reaching out and gently taking hold of the wrist of the hand that held onto his hip to keep him mostly still. Only for that hand to move, leaving his hips to instead take a hold of his half hard dick. Loose fingers gently stroked him, keeping him heated as he panted hotly, rolling his hips into the loose grip of Altaïr’s fingers around his prick and the finger still working in and out of him, now prodding and rubbing to open him up further.

Between the patience of Altaïr’s prep and the hand still loosely gripping him, another finger was worked inside of him soon enough. The stretch was pleasant, the friction of those fingers moving in and out of him wonderful, the occasional stroke or squeeze of the hand around his prick kept heat simmering in his lower belly. He groaned deeply when Altaïr’s fingers brushed that soft and sensitive spot inside of him, rolling his hips needily as his eyes drooped shut. Safe and secure and warm and aroused. When Altaïr scissored his fingers, he moaned low and soft.

It took a few minutes of those calloused fingers working in and out of him until he felt ready. When he did, he breathed out ‘ready’ and squeezed the man’s wrist. The man chuckled breathlessly, smiling that warm and tender smile that was so new and so foreign but was becoming so home on the man’s new but not new face. All that softness, all that sweetness that had washed away the stony cockiness and venom and left a human face behind. Malik reached up and cupped that face, smiling softly when the man turned to nuzzle into it, happily sighing against the skin.

This man…

The tool they needed was something bought from the market some time ago. Some Greek invention, polished stone. It felt heavy and firm, Malik knew from experience. He watched, licking his lips slowly, as Altaïr rolled it around in his hands to warm it until it was skin temperature. And then it was being slipped into the harness, proudly standing tall. Malik arched his back and shifted his hips as Altaïr made the tool slippery with oil, making it glint obscenely in the low light. He breathed out loudly as Altaïr took one of his legs and lifted it into the crook of his arm, using his other hand to take hold of the tool and aim it downwards, shifting forward until Malik felt the blunt pressure against himself.

“Are you well?” Altaïr breathed.

“Yes.”

Malik loved the firmness of the tool, but it took some careful pressure to push inwards comfortably. After a few pointed nudges, getting him used to the pressure against himself, and then pressing in slowly. A low groan escaped his chest as he felt his body yield to the constant pressure, the feeling of fullness, the feeling of the tool pressing deep inside of him. His hand found the hand on his hips, holding the wrist tenderly. Atlair switched the grip and he found their fingers intertwined and his heart squeezed tightly, his teeth finding his lower lip as his face heated up.

Altaïr pressed forward, deeper and deeper until he was pressed into the man’s lap, seated completely. They paused for a moment, Malik getting used to the feeling and Altaïr undoubtedly enjoying the press of the other end of the tool against his own body. They both breathed quietly, softly, their entwined hands squeezing tightly together.

“Tell me when you are comfortable enough for me to move.”

Malik nodded, letting his eyes close again. He focused on the feeling of the tool inside of him, warming with his body. The feeling of Altaïr’s calloused fingers squeezing his, the warmth of their bodies and the sweat starting to form from that heat of their bodies despite the coolness of the night. The quiet sound of Altaïr’s soft breathing and his own soft panting. Malik moaned softly and rolled his hips.

“I am good, please start slow.”

“Of course,” Altaïr breathed, tone so sweet and soft that Malik blushed harder from that than the fact that the man was fucking him.

Altaïr started slow, moving his hand from Malik’s thigh to his hip to move him so that they did not need to break their hand holding. Malik moaned from the first slow drag of the tool as it was pulled out a bit and then gently pushed back in. Back and forth, back and forth, letting Malik enjoy the friction as Altaïr got him used to the penetration. Letting him feel the movement of the tool sliding in and out of him, pressing against him on the way in and sliding along him on the way out. Back and forth, back and forth.

Neither of them ever cared for anything fast or hard. Malik preferred deep but slow thrusts, he felt it more that way and given the unyielding material of the tool they used, probably for the best. And Altaïr always loved using skill above all else, using well placed thrusts over trying to use strength and speed. Something that they both had learned that once he learned that he was doing good, he got better at that good. Their trysts had yet to leave him nothing less than completely sated since Altaïr learned his body.

Altaïr paused in his slow and deep thrusts, taking a moment to let go of Malik’s hip and drag briefly across the bed underneath them to dry it, before taking hold of him again. He moaned as the thrusts continued, rocking him slightly underneath the steady rhythm of them, squeezing the other man’s hand as his body melted with pleasure underneath it all. He could feel the fire growing in his lower belly, his erection starting to weep drops of pearly pleasure onto his heaving belly. He was getting close, so close--

The movement stopped, Malik panting as he opened his eyes to watch Altaïr taking their joined hands, using them to move his arm up and above his head, pressing their hands there. Altaïr moved them, bending over while dragging Malik’s legs further up into his lap, getting face to face level with him and freeing up his hand to take Malik’s prick into it. And then those lips were on him as Altaïr used his hips to thrust into him, startling a brief grunt out of him before he was returning the kiss with gusto. His legs wrapped around Altaïr’s waist, squeezing the man as his pleasure was built up hot and fast, especially with those rough hands stroking him carefully, mindful of dry skin on dry skin.

He twitched in Altaïr’s hand and then moaned as all that built up heat in his lower belly snapped and he spilled between the other man’s fingers. He shuddered, riding out the pleasure that pooled hot and heavy along his spine and made his toes curl as Altaïr thrusted a few times before stalling himself, liking having his own pleasure. 

And together they panted and tried to catch their breath as they basked in the afterglow of it all, enjoying the buzz and the loose and languidness of their bodies.

After a moment, Altaïr reluctantly parted from him, letting his hand go but only after squeezing it softly, gently pulling the tool free from his body and letting him flop boneless and sated onto the bed. His eyes closed again as he focused on regaining his breath, listening to Altaïr do the after clean up. There was some shuffling and he briefly felt a damp cloth wipe his belly clean and briefly collect some of the oil mess from his backside before disappearing again. There was the sound of the fireplace getting prodding, likely to stir a bit of warmth for when the coolness did eventually chill the sweat on their bodies, before that delightfully warm body was back in his head.

Altaïr snuggled up against his side, placing a tired head between his head and shoulder, slinging one arm across his chest and slipping a leg between his to tangle comfortable. For a brief moment he felt the man’s heat against his thigh, lingering wetness. He bumped his thigh against the man, hearing a soft hiss of sensitivity before the man thumped his chest.

“Ass.”

Chuckling, he nuzzled into Altaïr’s short hair and let the exhaustion easily sweep him away.

* * *

They both rose earlier the next morning, just as the sun was starting to chase away the night and leaving pale colors across the sky.

He did not need to leave for a bit, but Altaïr needed to head in to report in. Malik watched the man get dressed, slowly and surely, each layer confident and loving put on until the man once again donned the garb of the master assassins. When he was done, he slowly and carefully walked over to him still sitting bare on the bed, bending down to press a kiss to his forehead lovingly.

“Safety and peace,” Altaïr whispered reverently into his hair.

“How can I have either...”

His hand found one of Altaïr’s and tangled their fingers together. This hand of a man that had changed so much in such a short time it seemed. A different man, a human man. Not a proud bird of only bright plumes, but a human man with faults and skills and softness and kindness. Not Altaïr but also at the same time, Altaïr.

“When your leaving deprives me of both?”


End file.
